sore muscles and joints

Science of Male Orgasm Denial

In an update to her popular article The Orgasmic Benefits of Habitual - Male Orgasm Denial, Aislin Acquati explores the biological, psychological and evolutionary reality of routine male orgasm and how limiting them can dramatically improve your intimacy in relationships.

Dominate His Brain Chemicals By Controlling (Harnessing) His Orgasms

Male orgasm denial has numerous benefits, but do you know the chemical reasoning behind them? Endorphins, hormones, neurotransmitters, and neurochemicals (neurochemistry) affect how we ALL think and feel. By controlling your mans orgasms, you can control their brain chemicals and condition (train) them. Without any supervision or domination, men will masturbate and have as many orgasms as they please – which creates chemical chaos as well as undesired Un-Attentive behavior.

What are Endorphins?

Endorphins are a group of hormones that influence emotions and minimize the sensation of pain. They attach to opiate receptors, mostly in the brain. Pain and stress most typically influence endorphins to be released. They operate similarly to codeine and morphine.




Women Can Enjoy Blissful Daily Orgasms – But Men Need To Be Denied

It’s true – Orgasms affect men and women “Differently”.

It is empowering to know that you can relish multiple orgasms on a daily basis while withholding them from your Virile Lover. Knowing there are hormonal reasons behind the science, (making him stronger and healthier), is just icing on the cake!

Endorphins and Other Chemicals That Control The Brain and Motivation

1. Endorphins: Natural painkillers that are extremely more potent than morphine – producing feelings of euphoria.

2.  Oxytocin - The Love , Cuddle and Bonding Hormone: Decreases abstract cravings – diminishes stress  – keeps couples together – provokes passion, devotion, attachment and deep feelings of fondness – strengthens sexual receptivity.

Normal/Raised Levels of Oxytocin: Devotion – a feeling of being connected – feeling protective and responsible – health benefits (reduces blood pressure and speeds up wound healing) – intense feeling of attachment – increases sexual alertness –   less addictions and cravings – positive viewpoint and attentiveness.
Low Levels of Oxytocin: Depression – low sex drive – reduced, indifferent or no feelings of of attachment, connection or devotion – poor or no feelings of protection and responsibility for another person – weakened immune system.

3. Dopamine, The “I have to have it” Neurochemical:

Normal/Slightly Raised Levels of Dopamine: Generates feelings of happiness – healthy sex drive – joy in completing tasks – motivated  – optimistic outlook – postitive feelings toward others – rational decisions – yearning to bond with others.
Low Levels of Dopamine: Ambitionless – despair – displeasure – idleness – impaired judgement – low sex drive – remorseless of own behavior – social anxiety – unable to feel love.

4. Serotonin (a neurotransmitter):

Too Much Serotonin: Anxiety – gastrointestinal disorders – insomnia – sexual malfunction.
Not Enough Serotonin: Decrease or increase in appetite – insomnia – isolation – loss of libid – low self confidence – ongoing saddness – over sensitive –– sore joints and muscles – stoamch pain.

5. Testosterone ( a hormone):

Low Testosterone:  Anger decreased motivation and self esteemdecreased muscle mass and increased body fat – depression – difficulty with concentration and memory – fatigue – low sex drive – irritability .

6. Prolactin (a hormone): After orgasm, it may make one feel sexually satisified and repress dopamine.

Excess Levels of Prolactin: Depression – diminished interest in bonding with others – – lowered testosterone levels – low sex drive – depression – infertility – irritibility – lethargy – pessimistic outlook – weight gain.

This is how it works:

Men experience a rush of dopamine during orgasm that puts them in a state of ecstasy. However – in most men – the blissful feeling disappears after 5-10 seconds. Interestingly, the surge of dopamine triggers an almost simultaneous burst of prolactin that causes dopamine levels to plummet. The result is a dopamine level that is much lower than it was before sexual arousal began. In addition, an above normal level of prolactin continues for up to two weeks.

Woman receive a peak in dopamine during orgasm, but (unlike in males) it doesn’t crash drastically; rather, it subsides in a gradual sequence of steps. Prolactin also increases to a level slightly above normal (upon feminine climax) – staying there briefly while dopamine levels gently return to their normal levels. Another recent discovery is that Women’s dopamine levels vary throughout the month based on their menstrual cycle.

You may be wondering what all this means. It means that…

1. Male Orgasms Are Addicting

Have you heard a song about love or sex being a drug or addictive and wondered if there were any truth to it? Consider the following song lyrics:

“Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I’m thinking of
Oh oh can’t you see
Love is the drug for me” – Love Is The Drug by Roxy Music

“The perfect drug | the perfect drug | the perfect drug
You make me hard when I’m all soft inside
I see the truth when I’m all stupid-eyed
The arrow goes straight through my heart
Without you everything just falls apart” – The Perfect Drug by Nine Inch Nails

Well – male ejaculations can definitely be addicting due to dopamine, the “I have to have it” neurochemical. When comparing brain scans, Gurt Hoistege, a Dutch Scientist found an astounding resemblance of male orgasm to shooting heroin.

After they researched rats, scientists in Mexico City pointed out that repeated ejaculations can very closely imitate the effects of abusing drugs.

2. Men Experience a Post-Orgasm Hangover

After orgasm, men experience a hormonal hangover similar to an opiate or cocaine withdrawal due to low dopamine and high prolactin. Dopamine levels fall while prolactin levels rise after orgasm and after stopping an opiate or cocaine. It takes two weeks for prolactin levels to normalize after stopping cocaine.

During a post-orgasm “hormonal hangover,” men may look for new highs, such as drinking alcohol – eating sweets – new sex partners – porn – and drugs, to boost their dopamine levels. They may also feel disconnected from their partner – experience depression – or become lethargic.

When dopamine levels are constantly bursting up and plummeting down due to uncontrolled orgasms, it can wreak havoc on relationships. Your relationships could feel like a never-ending roller coaster ride full of highs and lows with no middle ground.

3. Too Many Orgasm Lead Him To Cheat

Once plighted, no men would go whoring.
They’d stay with the one they adore,
If women were half as alluring
After the act as before – Ancient Greek Anthology Poem

Or we could phrase it:

Once married, no men would be cheaters.
They’d be faithful to the one they adore, rather than acting a whore
If women stayed half as enticing After orgasm as before

In any case – long before our time, humans knew that men cheated on their wives because they were not as appealing after sex! Once again, dopamine is the chemical responsible for men choosing to act in a way we ladies don’t like.

Scientists found that after male rats partake in a frenzy of sexual intercourse, they will lose interest in that female. However, if a new female comes along, the male will have sex with her. They linked the phenomon of mate fatigue to dopamine. When a male rat has intercourse repeatedly with the same female, dopamine levels continue to drop. When a fresh potential mate arrives, a surge of dopamine follows.

So – to keep your men feeling you are the most beautiful woman on earth with a World Class “Sacred” Vagina – you must harness and resolutely control their orgasms!

4. Repeated Orgasms Decrease His Sex Desire

Male rats also experience a decrease in testosterone receptor for up to seven days within their reward circuit. Hormones, such as testosterone, and neurochemicals dock on the nerve cells, along with receptors. In this instance, fewer receptors equals less reactivity to circulating testosterone. As a result, the reward system releases less dopamine.

The first problem is that low testosterone, or a reduced sensitivity to it, can cause anger and irritation. No woman wants to give a man an orgasm and then receive annoyance in return!

Not only that – you don’t want to “Allow” your man to Ejaculate if the undesirable psychological result is a lowered sex drive. This brings us to the second problem, which is the fact that endorphin and serotonin levels go up - in the reward system of the sexually satisfied rats. Endorphins and serotonin are both neurochemicals that can produce happiness, but when they are in this part of the limbic system, they bring things to a stop rather than only generating good feelings. Think of it this way: Antidepressants, such as Zoloft – Prozac – and Lexapro, that increase serotonin and narcotics, such as Vicodin – Percocet – and Methadone that imitate endorphins, can cause sexual side effects. When neurochemicals diminish the reward circuit for a period of time, complications in your intimate relationship – both physically and emotionally – can and will occur.

If you want your guy to have a low sex drive for several days to a week, allow them to have orgasms whenever they chooses – or encourage them to take an antidepressant or opiate! If you just thought or yelled – HELL NO – Then we’re on the same page.

5. Uncontrolled Orgasms Make Him Fall Out of Love

In her book “Cupid’s Poisoned Arrow: From Habit to Harmony in Sexual Relationships,Marnia Robinson points out the following: As a cure for love, the Roman Poet Ovid cynically recommends pursuing orgasm until it results in disinterest.

cruel Love presses your neck beneath his foot?…
Go, and enjoy your girl, any time, nothing’s forbidden:
let her steal away your nights and days.
Seek loathing for your sickness: and let loathing end it.
Now, too, when you believe you could be free, stay on,
till you’re quite overwhelmed, and abundance destroys love,
and disgusted you’ve no pleasure in her house. – Or Sate Yourself With Her by Ovid

Due to a dopamine drop and prolactin burst after orgasm, “eventually a man can develop feelings of indifference or slight repulsion for his sexual partner,” according to Taoist Secrets of Love by Mantak Chia.

Oxytocin is the chemical that keeps love alive, and Ladies can magically increase this baseline oxytocin level in their lives by cuddling – hugging – holding hands – massaging as well as sexually “Edging” their males.

The Cure is Simple

The cure for the chemical chaos that uncontrolled orgasms produce in males is simple – The Cure is Orgasm Denial. .

Are you ready to dominate and ultimately control your mans brain chemicals – do you want to train him to respond to you with any “Conditioned Response” You Desire ? or have you already learned to do so? Share your experience with femdom relationships and male orgasm denial (Karezza) by visiting the Tumblr Site Below.

To learn more about Male Orgasm Denial, Natural Subjugation and Devotional Male Response – read “The Orgasmic Benefits of Male Orgasm Denial.”

Companions are Dared to Fight Maxson

aaaaaa ;; I’m sorry for this being so late I’ve been so busy ~ little goose


“C'mon little guy! Show me what you got!” Cait got into a fighting stance and smirked at Maxson. In a matter of seconds she was flipped over and on the ground. “Watch what you say, civilian. I will not tolerate-” Cait had got up as he was speaking and sucker punched the Elder right in the face. The fight was on. It lasted around 3 hours tops, both getting knocked around by the other. The fight was closed to a tie because never of them would give up. Curie scolded them both when they were done, saying that “it was a hazard to their health” if they continued. Maxson suffered from a fractured wrist, a broken nose, and a cluster of bruises making his face swollen. Cait suffered a minor concussion a black eye, a few cracked ribs, and a sprained hand. They both decided it was best to not do that again, unless they got bored.


Maxson raised an eyebrow at the Mr. Handy. “Sir? If I may, I don’t think it would be wise to conduct a fight against you, my saw arm alone is enough to give you stitches. I wouldn’t want to worry Miss Curie.” “I suggest if you don’t want to be turned into a scrap heap, then you better stay back.” As Maxson said that, it made Codsworth run tail and run, he didn’t even want to fight the Elder of the brotherhood anyway.


Curie is a sweetheart, why would anyone want to fight her? She doesn’t even like fighting, only when it’s necessary. When asked to Maxson she was in shock. “Fight him? He has done nothing wrong to provoke me! Yes I mean he can be a bit ah, rude to me but that’s not a reason to hurt him!” However, she still ended up to face to face with him. “Monsieur? If I may, I do not wish to fight you.” Curie crossed her arms in protest. Maxson didn’t say anything, just shrugged and walked off. He’d never admit it but he was quite fond of Curie since she helped people no matter what, despite being a synth.


“Me? Fight elder Maxson? You’re out of your mind.” Danse crossed his arms and stared at the person who dared him. “Last time that happened I ended up with a few broken ribs and a hand. I was off the field for almost 5 months.” He looked at the ground and then back up, “Of course I was more naive and less aware at that time, maybe I will take him on again.” Later that day, Danse was seen fighting Maxson. He wore a swollen face and a bloody nose just looking at him, however he also had a broken rib and a sprained ankle. Maxson had a black eye and what seemed like a fractured hand. Maxson was winning, Danse was unfortunately too cocky to take him on, leaving him on the ground after being flipped over, and then being left with a shattered pride.


“me, fight that hunk?” He laughed loudly, “Oh goodness, you gotta be kidding me!” He wiped a tear from his eyes from laughing so hard. “Well, you only live once, am I right?” He got up to go find Maxson. Once he spotted him, he popped a stealth boy and snuck up to him. He forcibly pulled the elder down, however he did not expect him to reach blindly in the air and take a lucky grab at the spy, pulling him down too. Deacon slammed onto the ground, giving him a small nose bleed. “Using a stealth boy, eh? Coward, show yourself!” Maxson yelled out in anger. Deacon quickly ran off, but kept his cool as he told the person who dared him that he totally beat Masson with just one punch. No one believed him since they saw Maxson the next day with no bruising or swelling showing that he’d been in a fight.


He tilted his head in confusion. He was a sweet dog (most of the time), why would he jump Maxson? Dogmeat didn’t move, he just sat down, scratched himself and rolled around on the ground in boredom.


“I’ll gladly do so.” Hancock smirked a mischievous smirk. He strolled up to Maxson with a wide grin on his face. “What do you want, ghoul?” Maxson looked at him in disgust. “Oh nothing, just wanted to give you something.” Hancock punched the elder in the face and yelled out, “Fight me you little punk!” The fight my friends, was on. Maxson was strong and fast, but Hancock was swift and flexible. He was like a fox letting a bull charge him but then jumping to the side at the last second. Maxson was able to get a few punches on the mayor but soon found himself on the ground in pain. Hancock had body slammed him to the ground and walked off with just a broken finger and a slight limp in stride that wpuld last at least a week. Maxson however had a cracked rib, a black eye, and busted lip. No one ever let the elder live that down. Who couldn’t talk about it? The elder of the Brotherhood of Steel had just got his ass kicked by a skinny ghoul from Goodneighbor.


Maccready nervously chuckled “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, I mean I’m not really trained in hand-to-hand combat.” However he strolled up to Maxson and was about to punch the guy in the face but when he turned around and questioned Maccready, the poor sniper just about jumped out of his skin and ran away with his tail tucked between legs.

Nick: “Listen, I would and I really want to, but he could easily turn me into a scrap heap the next time he saw me, so I’d better not.” The detective lit up a cigarette, “However, maybe if I’m feeling risky I might just fight the guy”


“Bring it Maxson! Fight me!” Piper put her fists up at the taller man. Maxson looked down at her and scoffed. “Do you really want to do tha-” before he could finish his sentence, piper went right into fighting dirty and had kicked him right in the baby maker. The elder held his groin in pain as a tear welled up in his eye, but he held it in. He gasped slightly before maintaining his posture and got rewards with a strong kick to the shin bringing him down on one knees. Piper cheered, “Hey guys! I just brought the elder of the Brotherhood of Steel to his knees!! How many of you can say that, huh??” She walked laughing and pumped her fists in the air, she was definitely writing an article about this.


“Oh I don’t know, he’s a really strong guy….but I always wanted to challenge him!” Preston smiled and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Later that day, he walked up to Maxson and bluntly told he wanted to challenge him to a fight. “Challenge me? To a fight? You do realize you are addressing the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, correct?” Maxson challenged Preston, his back straight and staring sternly at the Minuteman. “I know exactly who I’m addressing and I’m challenging you to a fight.” Preston stared down the Elder. “Very well then.” With that, the two were at each other, punches flying and dirt being kicked up everywhere. Soon enough, Preston landed a punch square Maxson’s face. The sweet pure man soon realized that was a mistake since he then found himself on the ground, wheezing, flooding coming from his face. He groaned as he slowly got up, suddenly feeling nauseous. “Monsieur! Oh dear, you need to be treated immediately! You too Monsieur Maxson! Come come! ” Curie had ran up to scene of the fight just in time to see Preston go on the ground. “Curie I’m fine..just need to catch my breath..” Preston almost went unconscious as he stumbled to Curie’s place. He was diagnosed with a few broken ribs, a bruised shoulder and a broken nose, Maxson however, had a broken nose and a fractured jaw. Preston decided to never challenge Maxson again.


As soon as he was dared he got a wild grin on his face. “Strong smash small human? STRONG SMASH PUNY HUMAN!” He ran over to Maxson bellowing a loud roar. Maxson silently thanked whoever was listening that the super mutant was so loud that no one could hear his high-pitched scream as he was taken into the mutants arms and thrown like a rag doll. The Elder suffered from a number of injuries: broken leg, arm, wrist, a concussion, and extremely sore joints and muscles for next few months. It took a ton of persuasion to convince Maxson not to terminate Strong for treating him so poorly.


“I will gladly punch the shit out of that surface filth.” Standing up, X6 walked out of the room, finding Maxson easily. “Excuse me, sir? I wish to speak with you.” Maxson turned around at the voice, seeing who called him. “What do you wan-” before the Elder could finish, he was punched in the face, kicked in the shin, and thrown on the ground in a matter of seconds. “Hm, always wanted to do that.” With that, X6 walked off calmly, like nothing happened leaving Maxson in a stunned daze wondering what had just happened.


Maxson was aboard the Prydwen, strolling towards his quarters when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. He stopped and looked around and saw someone right beside him. Thinking it was an attacker, he launched himself at the intruder only to come into contact with a wall. No, wait, it was mirror. Maxson launched himself at a reflection of himself like a puppy seeing itself in a mirror for the first time. Humiliated and sore, Maxson was just glad that no one saw that and he shamefully shuffled into his quarters and stayed there for the rest of the night. However, he did not see the newest recruit climbing up from the command deck just in time to witness the scene. The next day, Maxson walked down the hall wondering why everyone was whispering and snickering when he walked by.


Gage laughed, loudly. “That little guy? I bet you 30 caps I’ll win!” Gage quickly strolled up to Maxson with a huge grin on his face. Maxson turned around and in exchange, got a sucker punch to the face. He staggered backwards slightly from the force and held his bloody nose. “What the hell??” Maxson’s eyes flashed a lethal look towards Gage and lunged towards him. Maxson had Gage underneath him and was angrily punching him. Gage quickly rolled away and ran off, limping ever so slightly. Gage lost his thirty caps and a got rewarded with a broken nose a few chipped teeth and two black eyes.


“Why would I do such a thing?” Ada was confused, why would she attack someone just to attack someone? She walked away from the person who asked her and went to go do her own thing leaving the person slightly disappointed since they didn’t get to see a fight.

Learn to Speak Southern, pt 4

I’ve got a student working with me for the next few months who is one’a them “damn yankees”. I’m tryin to learn her how to speak the local language down here. She’s struggling so far. I’ve been collecting new terms to share. Enjoy. [Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3

  • stove up - sore, stiff muscles or joints. “Honey, trot in yonder and get me that paper. I’m too stove up to get up outta this chair.”
  • gouch - gout
  • epizootie - the funk. a viral illness of any sort. 
  • virus - gastroenteritis. anything involving diarrhea. 
  • flu - a respiratory infection, anything from the common cold to pneumonia.
  • geehaw - traditionally it’s how to direct a horse. Gee is right, Haw is left. Now it means something like “to get along”. i.e., “I reckon that new foreign doctor knows what he’s talkin about, but me and him just don’t geehaw.”
  • cartridges - cartilage. “The bone doc said I tore up the cartridges in my knee”
  • bronical - bronchial. “I think I need an antibiotic now doc. I can feel it movin into my bronical tubes.”
It’s A Gift (12x23)

Dean Winchester/Castiel
Words: 3.1k
Warnings: some language, angst in the beginning w/ a happy ending
A/N: Yes, the first line is a Twist & Shout reference. All credits to those writers for that amazing line and story. We were all hit pretty hard by the season finale, so I put a spin on the ending!

Originally posted by dailydestielposts

Castiel died on a Thursday.

It would have been a beautiful night for star-gazing under any other circumstances. Instead, it left Dean’s head spinning in a cloud of rage and grief beyond any that he had felt before.

Rowena was long gone. He could handle that. He had owed her, sure, but it’s not like they had established any sort of relationship over the past years.

Eileen had passed nearly two weeks before , leaving his brother once again heartbroken. Dean had felt a different kind of pain then. It was one of empathy towards his brother that made his soul ache along with a longing to see her back by Sam’s side.

Crowley was dead by his own hand. It had shocked Dean more than anything at first. The King of Hell actually sacrificed himself. No denying it, that hurt him, too. Crowley had helped them beyond measure and had saved their asses more than once without batting an eye. He knew he would miss him.

Mom had disappeared. Dean had just gotten her back from the hellhole of a place her mind was in and just like that she was taken from him again. The very thought made him want to punch a wall or take out his anger on anything nearby. He was afraid to think of what he would do if they couldn’t save her.

These things hurt worse than Hell or Purgatory or the Mark of Cain or anything that he had ever faced before. He was broken enough as it was with all of those things, but he would move on.

None of that could compare to the unbearable, excruciating pain he felt as he watched the life drain out of Cas.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sanvers Prompt: Alex gets bruised. A lot.

Alex walked into her apartment slowly. Her muscles were sore. Her joints hurt. She had bruises everywhere.

She locked the door and shuffled to her favorite chair. She wanted to just flop down into it, but she was afraid it would hurt so she lowered herself into it. She was practically able to hear her muscles creaking.

Unfortunately, she forgot that her phone was in her back pocket. She had to psych herself up to roll to the side to get her phone out. She should have just stayed at the DEO and slept in her lab. It would have been a lot less painful.

But getting her phone out meant that she could turn on her fireplace from her app and she could set her alarm because she definitely would not be making the journey to her bed. She was just going to lay her head back and close her eyes.

She was almost asleep when she heard the lock on her door click back. She started to reach for her gun, but a pull in her triceps made her decide that she didn’t care who it was. The lock was unpickable and only three people had keys. Whoever it was could just come in and whatever happened, happened.

“Alex?” Maggie’s voice proceeded her after she opened the door. She poked her head in and found Alex sitting on her chair, unmoving. She smiled and stepped all the way in, closing the door behind her. “I saw the footage of what you did today.”

“You did?” Alex asked. She saw that Maggie had brought food and a bottle of bourbon. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she smelled the wings in the paper bag that Maggie was holding. “Oooh, food.”

Keep reading

Bad Day Blues

Prompt: ANONYMOUS: If requests are a thing and you somehow manage to find sparetime…poly!hamilsquad x reader where the reader has a chronic pain disease (think Ehlers Danlos syndrome or lupus or whatever you want) and hamilsquad taking care of reader during bad pain day? (If not your thing then that’s cool, love your writing!)
Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader
TW: mentions of chronic pain, Lupus disease, gay sex-not detailed but mentioned, fluff???
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this took so long for me to write! I’m really excited about this piece, so thank you to the anon that requested it! I did some research on this disease, and I tried my best to accurately portray it, but I do not have these disease, therefore I cannot 100% accurately portray it or begin to understand how it feels to have this. Please, if something is inaccurate, let me know so that I can fix it. Please! I love y'all a bunch! I hope you enjoy it!
Word Count: 2034

Right from the start, you knew it was going to be a bad day. You felt like you hadn’t slept in days. Was this how Alex always felt? Your joints and muscles were stiff and sore, and you knew that today would be futile. You couldn’t help it; you teared up. It wasn’t anything new. You’d been living with Lupus since you were twelve, but the bad days still felt fresh. You were frustrated with your disease. You felt like you couldn’t win. Every day, it felt like the same struggle. It was never going to get better. It would never go away. Angry tears slipped down your cheeks, and you sniffled, snuggling into the crook of John’s neck. The movement ached, but you worked through it. You always had to. It was always something. John groaned and rolled over, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, causing you to grunt in pain. His eyelids fluttered open at the sound, and he immediately focused on the tears that fell down your cheeks.
“Sugar, what’s wrong?” His southern drawl was thick with sleep as he slipped a hand up to caress your cheek. He brushed your tears away with his thumb.
“Bad day,” you whispered to him, and he bit his lip. He nodded in understanding, and then he pecked you on the forehead. He carefully moved out of Lafayette’s hold on him and separated his legs from the tangle they were in with Alex’s. Once he was out of the tangle, he gently shook awake Lafayette. Laf was a doctor at the local hospital, and although he was not a rheumatologist, he did know the basics.
Lafayette woke up with a start, jolting up with a gasp and looking around before his gaze settled on John. He took a deep breath, his bare chest rising and falling.
“Bad day,” John whispered to Laf, who took a moment to process before he turned to look at you. You hadn’t moved from where John left you. It had hurt too much, and you didn’t feel up to it today. At least, not yet. Laf leaned over to peck your cheek before placing his hand on your forehead.
“Oh, mon ange, I think you have a fever,” he whispered to you, and you bit your lip. Laf got up, his blue pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, and he shuffled to the bathroom. John went to the living room to start the day.
Laf came back with a cup of water and a handful of pills. They were the standard. He gently and carefully helped you sit up, ignoring the occasional curse word as you strained. He helped you take a drink of water, then he tilted your head back, and placed the pills in your mouth. You swallowed the pills and let your head droop. Laf put the cup on the nightstand and tenderly picked you up. Despite his efforts to not jostle you, it still hurt, deep within your joints. You groaned, and he whispered apologies in French in your ear. He gradually moved into the living room, each step timid and calculated as not to hurt you.
He took you to the couch and eased you down onto the nest of blankets John had already arranged. He tucked a few heating pads around you and turned them on medium so that they didn’t make you too hot. Your hair hung in your face, and instead of moving to fix it, you tried to blow it out of your way. You failed. Laf chuckled at your attempt before he pulled the hair tie from his own hair and stood behind you. His fingers elegantly glided through your hair with the precision of a surgeon, scraping it up into a messy bun. While he was busy at work, John placed a hot cup of tea by your side.
“Thank you for helping me,” you whispered, and John gave you a sweet kiss.
“There’s no need to thank us, darlin’,” he simply replied before he went back into the kitchen with Laf. Laf had turned the TV on for you, but he had left it on the news. You didn’t care about the news. You wanted to see what else was on. Acting on impulse, you moved to grab the remote and swore when you were reminded of your predicament. Still, you powered through. The heating pads were helping, and your meds were kicking in, but the pain was still there. You grabbed the remote and flicked through a few channels before swearing and taking a break. Lucky you. You landed on another news channel.
Thankfully, only a few minutes passed before Alex stumbled out of the bedroom. When he saw the heating pads, he frowned.
“Bad day?” He asked as he scratched his scruff sleepily.
“Bad day,” you confirmed, and he nodded, tight lipped. If there was one thing that bothered Alex, it was disease. He hated seeing his loved ones ailed by things he could not control. He could not argue away your Lupus. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t save his mom, and now he couldn’t save you. That bothered him, so he didn’t say anything more on the matter. He just came over and sat on the floor in front of you. You moved your hand, ever so slowly and painfully, over to his hair and began to toy with it, ignoring the ache. It wasn’t as bad. Alex caught your palm in a butterfly grasp and turned to press his lips to it.
“I love you,” he whispered into your hand before he let go and leaned back against the couch. You continued to carefully play with his hair as the news caster gave the weather update. It was supposed to rain. How ironic. It was said that the rain was supposed to make you ache.
John came back in and put a plate of stir fried veggies in front of you. He then leaned down to give his boyfriend a peck, but Alex had different ideas. He pulled John down onto him and deepened the kiss. Alex was always the most… excited in the mornings. You rolled your eyes and began to try to eat. It was a slow, grueling process, but you were hungry.
Suddenly, there was a hand gently stealing your fork from you, and you looked up to see that Lafayette was kneeled in front of you. Alex and John were getting busy with a makeout session on the floor. If they didn’t stop soon, the morning was about to get hotter than the forecast. Whatever. It’s not like they hadn’t done it before.
Laf fed you while the boys went for a romp on the rug, and the news caster droned in the background. You had protested that you could feed yourself, but one look from Laf shut you up. He was a doctor, not an idiot. Well, at least, that’s what he had told you.
You had gotten tired of eating, and you wanted to rest, but Laf insisted that you finished your breakfast and tea. You begrudgingly complied. Finally, once you had finished, Laf took the dishes back to the kitchen before he helped you lie down on the couch. You glanced at the other two boys, who had started cussing at each other, and scowled. They always had grumpy, angry sex in the mornings.
“Could you two calm down? I’m trying to sleep,” you grumbled, and you heard Lafayette laughing in the kitchen.
“Take it somewhere else, boys,” he called to them.
“How about you come with us?” John cheekily sassed, and Alex agreed. Laf came into the living room and looked at you.
“Can I get you anything, mon ange? Are you all set? I brought you another mug of tea in case you get thirsty, and you know you can always call me in here-” Laf was always the Mom friend.
You shook your head. “I’m fine; I promise. Go rustle your jimmies or whatever.”
Laf smiled at you and kissed your lips ever so softly before he was roughly dragged by the other two hooligans out of the room.
You closed your eyes and fell asleep to the monotonous noise of the news.
Laf had woken you up for lunch with another vegan dish and a round of meds. Hercules was up now, and he was hovering around you, eager to help but unsure what to do.
Once you finished, Herc knew how he could help. “Hey, do you want to go to the hot tub?”
You always enjoyed the hot tub on your bad days. The hot water helped you relax, and it eased your pain. The only thing you hated was when one of the boys had to dress you. You felt like a helpless child. Just another burden of your disease. They always reassured you that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, but you still hated feeling weak. The boys, however, often called you their little soldier.
Herc was the one to dress you, and he moved as quickly and carefully as possible. It hurt, but not as much as it would have when you had first woken up.
He muttered apologies the entire time and gave gentle kisses to your cheeks every time you winced.
Once dressed, he carried you out and with the help of the others, maneuvered you into the hot tub. The jets were set on low as not to cause you harm, and after a few minutes of soaking, you felt strong enough to slide yourself towards Herc. He grinned at you when he saw you move towards him, and he helped you snuggle against him. Even in the hot tub, his body was warm. He wrapped his arm around you, watching you for any sign of pain, but you relaxed against him as the hot water helped to ease your pain. Hercules kissed the top of your head ever now and then are traced soft, smooth patterns over your skin with his fingertips.
After a while of boiling in people soup, the boys helped you out of the tub. Even though you had started to feel just a smidge better, Herc insisted on carrying you. He helped you change into dry, comfy clothes before taking you back to your nest. He went to put you down, but you clung to him.
“Lie with me?” You murmured, and you looked at him with your puppy dog eyes. He could never say no to you, and Herc would never pass up the opportunity to cuddle.
He inched himself onto the couch with you, taking his time to recline, before he was finally adjusted. He was on his back, and he had you curled up on his chest. You pressed your face into his neck as he covered the both of you with blankets and swaddled you in heating pads. This time, Laf sat in front of the couch, and John and Alex sat together on the love seat. There were other seats for Laf, including his boyfriends’ laps, but he wanted to be near you, and Herc was really good and playing with his hair.
Laf fed you again, rather embarrassingly, because you protested especially hard this time and still lost. After watching your favorite movie and being peppered with kisses from Laf And Herc, you were carried to bed. Everyone turned in early so they could cuddle you, and their kindness and love for you brought tears to your eyes.
As you lied together in bed, embraced by Herc, spooning Alex, an arm from Laf thrown across you, and John’s ankle on your thigh, you couldn’t help but be thankful. Your disease made your life difficult, and at times it felt unbearable, but your boys made it suck just a little bit less.
“Thank you for taking care of me. I really love you guys,” you sniffled, suddenly overcome with gratitude. They made you feel so loved, even if they did occasionally romp on the floor in front of you.
“Always,” John replied while Herc said “Anytime,” Laf said something incoherent in French, and Alex murmured “I love you.”

allforthegreatergood  asked:

Ok, but Newt is observant enough to know when Graves is hiding his sickness. He can tell pretty quickly what's ailing Graves and he sneaks little remedies here and there so that he doesn't hurt Graves's pride. Sore throat? Extra honey in his tea. Sniffles? Pepper up potion hidden in the coffee. Fever? asks for help in the snow enclosure. Sore muscles/joints? "Percy, one of my creatures is loose. You'll have to stay in that hot bath a little longer while I catch it."

That’s the cutest idea. Like, Newt almost makes a game of it. 

The Aurors always know when their director is sick - not because of his sniffles or his coughs or his sneezes, because he doesn’t have those. The man is a master of hiding his illness after years on the force. No, the only identifying marker is if and when the man’s coffee suddenly changes to tea. 

And all of the Aurors have the good sense not to fucking mention it, because the last one who did ended up buried in a mountain of paperwork so high, they never saw them again. Literally. They’re gone.

Not really, but the threat remains.

And then Newt motherfucking Scamander - that trouble starter - joined the department as a consultant. And evidently he doesn’t need to know Graves’ drinking habits to know when the man’s sick.

“You’re obviously not well, director,” Newt said, wrist at Graves’ forehead - starling the man. Graves jerked away, eyes wide.

“Scamander, what– I’m not–!”

“Here, take this,” Newt said, pulling a little bottle from his coat, but it’s too late. No Auror can save him. They all cringe and await the inevitable. However, Graves just stands with a growl and rushes away with a quickly muttered, “M’not sick,” under his breath.

Newt scowled.

“Yea, Newt - it’s not worth it,” Abernathy says.

“No one is going to make him rest?”

Make him?” Another Auror laughs. “I’d like to see a twig like you make him do anything.”


And thus started the “get Graves well” war.

Graves has his back to them at a meeting, pointing out something on a map when Newt leaves forward to splash a dollop of honey in the man’s tea.

Newt,” Tina hissed - eyes wide and back ramrod straight. 

Newt just smiles, pleased, when the director turns to take a sip and barely notices - too congested to catch anything but the fact that the tea is suddenly a little more soothing on his throat.

They see the scrawny man wander towards the director’s closed office doors and all rise as quietly and quickly to their feet as they can - hands raised to stop him, plead with him. But Newt casts his spell anyway.

A warming charm. A sigil blares to life, warm and friendly on the door.

They wait for the angry yelling.

Instead, all they hear a moment later is faint snoring. A quick peek into the room confirms it. Graves, head tucked down against his chest - fast asleep. They let Newt conjure a blanket upon his shoulders and give into the magizoologist’s plans; because obviously, they’re working.


Warnings: insomnia, sleepy Dean, little bit of fluff

Word count: 1702

Parings: Husband Dean x Insomniac Reader

Tag: @donnaintx, @juniorhuntersam

(Y/N) sighed as she stepped back from the bookshelf, one hand on her waist and the other hanging limp at her side her fingers loosely wrapped around the feather duster in her hand. A proud smile was present on her face as she looked at the work that she had done, it was four in the morning and she had just finished dusting all of the book shelves in the bunker. All night she had been up cleaning the entire bunker, she had started in the kitchen scrubbing just about every surface, pot and pan, and the entire floor that had been around midnight. After the kitchen she moved on to the rest of the bunker slowly cleaning all of the hallways, until she had made her way to the war room and the library and she had just finished cleaning everything except for the garage which she was going for next after this and she wasn’t even tired yet.

Keep reading

Until Space Falls, Chapter One.

Hello! Voltron fanfiction fluff ahoy! I’ve had a hell of a week and I needed this. @kabuki-akuma because she is the queen of Allurvian and I needed to get this out of my system. 

I hope you enjoy! Please ask me anything! 


Had the stars ever looked so dim? So far away? Kolivan tried to figure out why there was a grey haze covering his eyes. Maybe he was getting tired. Perhaps he had been staring at the battle simulator screen for too long. He rubbed his amber eyes with a large, clawed hand and stared out the window of the bridge again. Nope, the haze was still there.

Sighing dejectedly, he turned away from the celestial lights outside of the ship, closing his eyes as he stepped towards the nearest sliding door. Whatever this fog was that had been covering his vision had started to bother him. It seemed to get worse with every passing moment. When had it started? He couldn’t remember exactly. He mused silently that perhaps some druid magic had hit him in their last fight. Maybe that explained why he also felt chilled, too.

Backlit by a glowing moon, Kolivan was imposing and mysterious and dark. His thoughts clouded his face and knitted his brow. No one would dare to intrude on the leader of the Blade of Marmora in such a mood.

Princess Allura, however, would.

Keep reading

Noctis gave a cry as his back hit the wall, though it was replaced almost immediately by the muffled moan that sounded from the teeth on his neck. There was a benefit to going on a trip with someone that you’d had feelings for, certainly more so when they admitted it was mutual. Nights and day spent together were like the longest dates one could possibly have and he was all too pleased when small kisses on an evening alone ended up with them back in the hotel room they’d claimed, trying desperately to get out of their clothing before he ended up face first on the bed. It was hardly the first time that they’d fooled around, but it was going to be one of the first times he got to have something decidedly less than gentle.

Hands under his shirt were drawing no small number of moans from him, head rolling backwards and giving far more access to his neck than he probably would have been entirely alright with normally. His own hands struggled with Ignis’ clothes, blind for a moment while he tried to work at his ridiculously proper shirt. He was making progress despite everything else, until a very well placed bite on his shoulder had him gripping onto him and writhing while Ignis picked him up and all but tossed him onto the bed. Apparently they’d waited far long enough, because there was no small amount of touching that could even slightly calm either of them down.

They fought against one another, trying to be the first to divest the other of clothing. And for all that he was flustered and all too ready to just rip the damn shirt off his back, Noctis was winning. He had finally gotten all the buttons undone, and was going to try and flip them so Ignis was beneath him, before his hands were being tugged upwards and his shirt off, before pinning hands decidedly above his head. It worked in his favor, Ignis being larger than he was and having a bit more body mass than he did, he could easily pin the prince where he wished. And while there was a very real chance for this to turn into a play for power, not a moment later was he given a tender kiss, aggression and overwhelming lust forgotten for a moment and replaced with their usual need to just be near one another.

Keep reading

About Time // Part 2

| Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 8.5 |

Type/Genre: Angst, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au, Soulmate!au)

Word count: 8,390

Prompts: “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

Summary: Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

a/n: Starting from this chapter and to the next, the story will focus more on what will happen long in the future, hopefully they will make things more clearer, although each chapter will still be divided into two-three different timelines. I’m sorry it took so long for me to update. I nearly lost my motivation to write tbh^~^ I hope you guys will stay with me, thank you for reading (and waiting!)

Originally posted by won-der-land89

Keep reading

The Dance of Destinies

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS/TOS)
Prompt: @yourtropegirl ‘s Ballerina!reader challenge.
Word Count: 3209.
Minor injury, fluff.
Rating: All ages.
Summary: 21st century AU – reader is a ballerina preparing for an audition and Bones is watching her through the studio’s window.
Author’s Note: I love that this gave me a chance to go back to my roots.  I trained in ballet and folk dance on and off for nearly 13 years until I got too busy with school and work to continue. It’s nice to be reliving some of those days!  The title for this fic comes from a quote by Shah Asad Rizvi: “One step, two steps, three steps; like winds of time experience joy of centuries, when movements become revelations of the dance of destinies.”

The Dance of Destinies

Plié.  Soubresaut.  Chassé. Piqué.  Fouetté.  Jeté.

Your movements are fluid and completely intuitive as you dance, the music simply an afterthought in the background as you go through the motions you’ve been practicing for months now in preparation for an audition for the American Ballet Theatre.  It’s your dream to dance with the world-renowned corps de ballet and you’ve been training eight hours a day for the last two weeks so that you’re ready when your audition rolls around in less than a week.

Your joints are sore and your muscles are weak with exhaustion, but you don’t give up.  You can’t give up.  It’s your one shot at achieving your dream and you’re not about to give it up for a few aches and pains.  Stopping only long enough to catch your breath in between repeats of your chosen piece of music, you shake off the fatigue, get a quick sip of water, and then get right back to your routine.

Keep reading


JUNE 15TH 2018


DATE: JUNE 15TH 2018

On MONDAY, JUNE 4TH 2018; symptoms of a virus began to appear in several regions of the American Southwest, Central America, and Southeast Asia. Physical descriptions of the illness were reminiscent of certain animal bites, but none could be matched to a specific animal. The origin of the virus is unknown. I will continue to post my findings as they come, including updates about new symptoms.

Goodnight for now,

Dr. Xander J. Fitzgerald


  • HIGH FEVER (100.4F / 38C) 
  • PAIN


DATE: JUNE 23RD 2018

The CDC has officially released a press statement as of 8:13AM EST this morning, on SATURDAY, JUNE 23RD 2018, to discuss the status of the disease. They have verified that the new strain, now formally referred to as the T2R2H9 Virus, is legitimate. They’re working on finding a cure, and methods on how to contain it. The Department of Defense has yet to confirm the allegations of initiating martial law to quarantine majors cities, in which the virus has been documenting more reports of the virus.  




DATE: JUNE 26TH 2018

A new break has come in search of a cure for the virus. An independent medical group stationed in Chicago, IL has reported that  they’ve attempted to see if they can slow the rate at which the virus spreads or terminate it with rounds of known antibiotics. Despite their findings being deemed inconclusive by the CDC, their findings suggest that nothing they tried worked to slow or destroy the virus.





The CDC has released a new statement, as of yesterday, SATURDAY, JUNE 30TH 2018. They announced that none of their attempts to terminate the virus have worked, and that it’s starting to replicate itself faster. Symptoms of T2R1H9 have begun to appear in parts of Europe, Africa, and Oceania. A report from Thailand also came out corroborating the findings, as well as verification that the virus is evolving. No information has yet to be found leading to a definitive cause to the virus’ origin.

No word has still yet to be announced from the Department of Defense about the initiation of martial law, however; news outlets have speculated rumors about a bill that will temporarily shut down trade ports and airlines as a means to attempt to contain the virus.





Chaos has begun to set in s news about the virus continues to spread. The public is unrest, and most are fleeing to rural areas to escape the violence of the cities. The Department of Defense has officially placed the United States of America under martial law, and instructs all nations who have yet to follow suit to do so as soon as possible. Autopsies of those who have been killed before the virus could fully spread, have yet to provide leads to a potential cause to help examiners get closer to finding a cure.

Examinations of the bodies showed that several major organs appeared heavily deoxygenated and inflamed, even hours after experiencing the first symptoms. Dissection of the infected organs revealed they were filled with pus and what resembled black mold. One examiner, T. Kanai, said that upon examining one of the mouths of the deceased, she noticed that their teeth were abnormal. She initially assumed the individual had gingival recession, but their gums were perfect and showed no signs of disease or decay. Instead, it was their teeth that seemed to be moving, as if there were new teeth trying to push their way up to the surface. Kanai also commented that something about their eyes made her uncomfortable, but declined to comment any further.





The CDC has set up quarantine centers across the United States, Canada, and Mexico as means to section off the infected from the healthy. In these government sanctioned camps, on staff medical and government personnel have released statements about their findings as they do rest runs to find a cure; which were leaked to the Deep Web and appeared on various political and government message boards over the past 48 hours.

According to personnel in an undisclosed base in Arizona, they revealed that some of the symptoms have taken a drastic and sinister turn for the worst. An unidentified petty officer and medical examiner reported seeing infected individuals with dark blue to black scleras; as well as a sudden loss of their fingernails and seizures. Their accounts have yet to be confirmed, and the CDC has ordered that all deceased individuals are to be burned as a safety precaution; whether or not they’re infected with the virus. The virus has been confirmed as being in six continents, and all airports and borders in 110 countries have been closed as of MONDAY, JULY 9TH 2018.




DATE: JULY 17TH 2018

A research team in Wyoming has taken the data calculated from the base in Arizona, and decided to do a series of experiments to study how the virus changes. According to the study, they took three patients who are at different rates of the infection; placing them under heavy surveillance in separated chambers on TUESDAY, JULY 10TH 2018 at 13:00


SUBJECT #1: Sex unspecified. Aged 25. Showing mild-moderate symptoms; loss of appetite, moderate body aches, tremors, nausea, vomiting, and mild hallucinations [visual].

Overall Health; Stable. Mood or Temperament; Good. Thoughts; Clear.

SUBJECT #2: Sex female. Aged 33. Showing moderate-severe symptoms; rapid weight loss, nausea, vomiting, dilated veins, mild discoloration of the scleras, fingernail loss, moderate hallucinations [visual and auditory], mild-moderate tremors, and a high blood cell count.

Overall Health; Stable. Mood or Temperament; Fine. Thoughts; Scattered.

SUBJECT #3: Sex male. Aged 45. Showing severe symptoms; demonstrates some degree of all the known symptoms, with the exception of loss of appetite. SUBJECT #3 shows symptoms that has yet to be documented among the infected; (1) His original teeth have fallen out, and replaced by a rows of jagged, sharp teeth; made for ripping flesh from bone, and (2)a form of “Wendigo Psychosis”, which is characterized by a deep craving for human meat as food. Upon being given a cooked steak, he refused to eat it. When given a raw steak, he became curious–only to throw it across the room after tasting it. When given a scrap bucket of viscera from the morgue, he took it into a corner and devoured all the contents.

Overall Health; Unstable. Mood or Temperament; Easily distressed and Volatile. Thoughts; Scattered and Unclear.


SUBJECT #1: Condition has steadily gotten worse. SUBJECT #1’s scleras have turned black, and now expresses bouts of intense rage.

Overall Health; Unstable. Mood or Temperament; Unpredictable. Thoughts; Unclear

SUBJECT #2: Condition has remained stable. She still has no appetite, and has to be guided to eating. Her scleras are dark gray, and several of her teeth have been replaced with the same teeth as SUBJECT #3. SUBJECT #2 refuses to sleep, or can’t.

Overall Health; Stable. Mood or Temperament; Anxious. Thoughts; Scattered.

SUBJECT #3: Condition remains unstable. He refuses to eat any food items that aren’t in his bucket, and has been documented demonstrating violent bursts of rage if his needs aren’t met accordingly. SUBJECT #3 requires maximum level amount of security when having food transferred to him, and has demonstrated inhuman amounts of strength. He was also recorded from surveillance cameras, tormenting and antagonizing on duty staff.

Overall Health; Unstable. Mood or Temperament; Unstable. Thoughts; Scattered and Cloudy.


SUBJECT #1: Condition has slowly gotten worse; now demonstrating incredible bouts of strength, throwing their bed across the room when their demands weren’t met. When SUBJECT #1’s fingernails were collected for testing, they attacked an on duty guard; mildly injuring him in the process. SUBJECT #1 refuses to talk to or comply with the orders of staff officials. The status of the guard’s health has yet to be disclosed.

Overall Health; Unstable. Mood or Temperament; Agitated. Thoughts; Unclear.

SUBJECT #2: Condition has slowly gotten worse; her loss of appetite has receded, and she now claims to have an insatiable appetite for raw meat. When asked why, she said she doesn’t know–only that she feels like she’s going to die if she doesn’t. On duty staff decided to test their theory, placing a raw steak and a large bucket of harvested viscera on her table. After some time, she took a liking to the content of the bucket over the steak. After finishing the contents, she was asked why she made the choice she did; to which she said she doesn’t know, only that something told her to-and how she thinks she wants more.

Overall Health; Good. Mood or Temperament; Stable, yet easily distraught. Thoughts; Clear.

SUBJECT #3: During the sixth night, SUBJECT #3 attacked and killed an unarmed staff member in his cell. The guard was found crudely disemboweled; with his organs gone and his blood splattered across the room. The subject was found in the corner of his cell, smiling with blood on his face, arms and body. All attempts to subdue him by armed personnel failed, and was fatally gunned down as a last resort.

Overall Health; TERMINATED

The experiment has been terminated, but SUBJECT #1 and SUBJECT #2 were sent to a maximum security area for further examination before being reintegrated with the base. SUBJECT #1 show little sign of improving, and SUBJECT #2 is unclear.




DATE: JULY 20TH 2018

This will be my last update for some time. I’m going to be boarding a private flight with a group of on base scientists to a base in the American Northwest to collect more data on the virus; which will include myself, KW, JG, OA, MN, DZ, NV, and AM. I’ll do my best to update my log regularly when we arrive to my destination. We’re expected to depart on TUESDAY, JULY 24TH 2018 at 03:00. We’ve been informed ahead of time that we’ll be have to receive extensive training before we would be allowed to interact with the infected directly; meaning we will only have access to interviews and data by means of surveillance footage or by means of separation as demonstrated with the experiment. We’ll be careful, and the next update should be from our new findings at the base.

As of now, no new information has come forward about the status of any recently discovered symptoms.


DATE: JULY 26TH 2018

We landed at the base two days ago, and our search for a cure has been going as planned. My investigation team and I are going to undergo our official training tomorrow morning, which will give us time away from the lab to get acclimated to what it will be like to work with the infected up close. We’re nervous, but hopeful. We’ve been informed that representatives from CDC bases on the East Coast will be flown in via a private service to work alongside us in our mission to provide a vaccine for the virus; with the hope that it will prevent it from spreading further. The current estimated number of the infected population is 956 million.




DATE: JULY 31ST 2018

Our training course has been successful, and we’re scheduled to start getting to work with the infected in the next few days. Several of my colleagues are hopeful that if we don’t find a cure soon, we’ll at least find a patch to slow the virus’ replication rate. Yet, many others remain skeptical and doubtful; with this being the fastest spreading virus that we’ve come to know, infecting nearly one-seventh of the world population in less than two months. I’m going to call this update closed for now, as I have a lot of papers to handle, and my designated team and I have to transport some of the infected to a new security base.




DATE: AUGUST 1st 2018

Shit. Shit. Something went wrong during the transporting process. When we were escorting the infected inside, a guard didn’t see two infected individuals that were roaming the premises unsupervised; being subsequently attacked in the process. We weren’t prepared for this. They didn’t train us for this. We tried to quickly get the other inside, but the two infected ragers got in with us. They attacked the five of us who were closest to the door; an unnamed guard, OA, KW, NV, and myself. I was too slow, and one thing they don’t tell you during your training OPs is that they bite hard. We’re being placed under quarantine for the next few days to check on us, just in case they microscopically broke any skin during the scuffle. I was given permission to bring my computer into my designated chamber, so I can continue to work while I’m recovering. In the event I have become infected with the virus, I’ll be given a series of test drugs to see if they’ll cancel out the negative effects of the virus. I’ll also be documenting my experiences with those as the days unfold. This is going to be a long, long ride.



It’s been two hours since we were quarantined, and just over three since we were initially attacked. I was bitten and scratched on my left calf, and the pain was excruciating. I was screaming and cursing at the top of my lungs nearly the entire way to the emergency unit. The pain was unlike anything I ever felt; being a combination of what I can only describe as a snake bite, a wasp sting, and a second degree burn being magnified ten fold. After my wounds were disinfected and patched up, I was given a round of test antibiotics and a morphine pump before being escorted to my isolation chamber.

The room is sterile, and smells vaguely of pine and cedar. I have a single metal frame bed, a desk connected to the wall, a single shelf above the desk, and a small table where my meals would be served. It feels surreal being in a room like this, knowing what became of those during the experiment. At the moment, I feel fine. The morphine has been helping a lot to dull the pain. The only thing to report on is that the muscles in my left leg feel aggravated and sore.




I got couple messages from people asking to know how I’m doing, and how the rest of my team is. It’s been six hours since my last post, and I’m starting to feel nauseous and experiencing some dizziness; though whether or not that’s attributed to the virus, or is a side effect of the medications they have me on–I’m not sure. As far as the others go, I haven’t been told yet. I’ll do my best to remember to ask a guard the next time one of them comes by to check my vitals. I’m going to try to get some rest and see if that helps or not.





It’s day two of my recovery process. I woke up at 06:00 to have my vitals checked, and had breakfast served to me at 06:30. I’m still feeling nauseous, so I didn’t have much of an appetite. I picked at some of the fruit they gave me, and resorted to mainly sticking to a cup of hot coffee. I feel heavy and fatigued all over, as if I just have a serious cold. I might go back to bed soon. I don’t have the energy to move around right now. I’m going to respond to some emails I got in regards to the recent updates, and then call it quits until I have my vitals checked again at 1230 hours.




It’s 12:45, and I woke up in excruciating pain about an hour ago. I jolted up in my sleep feeling like my skin was on fire, and I felt like I tore a muscle. Not pulled or strained, but tore a muscle–as if it was ripping itself from the bone. I tried to give myself as many pumps of morphine as I could, but I’m on a timed system. So even after a full dose, I was still in tremendous pain half an hour after the fact. An armed guard and two medical personnel came in to get my vitals, and I told them about my pain levels.

They assured me that this was normal, and to not worry. I also asked about how the unnamed guard, KW, OA, and NV were doing. They told me they were fine, and they should be discharged soon. If they or others from my group come by to check on me, I’ll be able to verify their statements then. I’m going to try to eat something light to get my strength up, and then possibly get back to working on some papers from my bed. The current estimated infected population, according to the main CDC headquarters, has now reached 1.7 billion.




It’s 18:35 and the medical personnel gave me some medication to bring my appetite up, and so far, it’s helping. I was able to clear off a sandwich and a small salad, and I’m doing well with holding it down. The medic who checked on me took some new labs, and said I should have my results in by tomorrow afternoon to see if the antibiotics are working or not. They were surprised I was as calm as I was at the time, and that it was a relief for them. I asked them what they meant by that, but they wouldn’t budge. I pried them about it until I got them to cave. I’m still part of this investigation, and I have the right to know what’s going on.

They told me that they’ve worked with hundreds or even thousands of people who have been been affected by the virus, and that knowing how calm, almost unaware of how sick I truly was, caught them off guard. They continued to say that mood swings are one of the most commonly reported symptoms, and are more often than not, violent. I stopped them for a moment, asking what they meant by the last thing they said; about not being aware of how sick I really was. They immediately froze, and stopped talking; as if they realized they said something they weren’t supposed to. They just grabbed their supplies and left without saying another thing.

I’m starting to a little scared, and I still haven’t seen the rest of my team. I’m going to try to get some rest again soon. I can hear a storm coming, and from the looks of it, it won’t be a good one.





I apologize for not updating yesterday like I should have. The weather has been atrocious, and our entire grid lost power from 04:30 to 20:50. I was able to get some notes types out before my battery died, so here’s what I’m able to recall.

My morning routine went much the same, and I was able to be escorted to a quarters area to clean myself up. Getting some fresh air away from my confinement was fine, but I still felt like a caged animal with how close I was being monitored. My body aches and pains have subsided, and I was able to move around more without feeling like I need some type of assistance. My appetite had come back, and was able to make up for all the calories I missed in the form of heavy nutritional shakes and protein bars. Working in near darkness threw my circadian rhythm off, and I ended up sleeping most of the day.

Today was much the same, after the power came back. I was finally able to get my lab results back, and my white blood cell count was triple what it should have been. My body knew something was wrong, and was doing its best to fight off whatever it was. The medic who saw me the previous day came back to administer more antibiotics and experimental test drugs, as well as give me another physical. In the light of the room, they were able to make out my features closer and get better readings.

The veins in my hands and arms were mild-moderately dilated, and both my fingernails and cuticles were chipped/torn and beginning to bleed. They took an ophthalmoscope and went to check my vision, pausing for a moment to take notice of what I didn’t want to believe were the color of my eyes. They just gave me this look, one where you know they’re hiding something from you. They continued the examine, and told me that everything was checking out; but whether or not that was a good thing, they wouldn’t say.

But one thing is certain: I’m infected…and if my reports over the last two months had been indicative of anything; it’s that this is only the beginning, and things are going to get worse from here on out.





I wasn’t able to sleep last night. All I could think about is how the past five days have gone, and how this isn’t what I wanted out of coming here. I spent a good hour throwing up, terrified of knowing what awaits me when this damn disease spreads further. I can’t stop thinking about the two subjects in last month’s update that are still, hopefully, alive. I can’t help but to imagine the fear and dread they must feel or have; knowing there’s an insidious being raging inside them, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it. I wonder how many of them tried to fight back against it, and how many gave up and caved to the beast.

While I was curled up on the floor in a mess of my own pity and sorrow, I thought about SUBJECT #3; wondering which category he was in during all of this. Did he try to fight to suppress the side effects, or did he lose hope and let it win? The the days leading up to him being brought in for the study, he seemed fine, albeit distressed. He was clearly hiding something, perhaps trying to mask his pain as the virus weighted him down. I don’t know. I can only hope he’s at peace now, and that the other two; wherever they are, can have some solice in knowing that we’re going to beat this thing. I don’t know how or when, but we will.

We’ve survived the Bubonic Plague, the 1918 Spanish Influenza, world wars. In the wake of tragedy, we’ve proved time and time again that we’re strong and we’re resilient beings. We’re not going to go down without a damn fight. Everything works out in the end. Right?





I’m beginning to feel weak again, and all I want to do is sleep. I’m losing sight of what’s real and what’s not. I can’t tell if I’m seeing or feeling things because I’m cracking up or if it’s the virus showing itself more to me. I spent a good five minutes shaking in bed, and had a grand mal seizure when I went to go clean myself up just an hour ago; which is something that’s never happened to me. I was able to get ahold of DZ and JG; who were given authorization to meet me. For their protection, they were put in specially designated hazmat suits, and I was handcuffed to my desk. It was bittersweet seeing them, and the look on their faces seeing me was otherworldly. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s just that bleak look of acceptance you see when people are seeing their loved ones for the last time–as if they instinctively knew things weren’t going to end well for me.

They told me the status of the project to look for a cure, which was going as well as I should have expected. The virus was replicating at an alarming rate, and there was no telling what could be used or done to slow it down even a fraction of the rate it was developing. The virus was changing its structure almost every 72 hours like clock work, and predicting its next makeup structure was impossible. In layman’s terms; we were fucked. I then asked them about how the others were doing. MN and AM were fine, and were planning on heading back to our original camp to get away from all the stress they were dealing with here. When I asked them about KW, OA, NV, and the guard; they went quiet.

JG asked me if I was serious, and then became angry when I told him I had no clue what either of them were talking about. I didn’t even know how they got hurt or how bad it ultimately was, only that I wasn’t the only one who got attacked. DZ was surprised that I wasn’t told about anything, and proceeded to fill me in to the best of their abilities. The day after we were quarantined, they got the news that OA died sometime during the night when her aorta ruptured sometime in her sleep. KW was in and out of the operating room since yesterday for what they only told me was “organ failure”, and that NV was stable, but refusing to talk to anyone. I asked them about the guard again, and they told me when they went to go visit KW in the ICU; they swore they saw someone strapped to a gurney, screaming about how “that fucking disease is going to kill us all” and “kill me now before it makes me hurt you”.

Before they left, they tried to comfort me and tell me that they’re not going to stop looking for a way to beat this; even if they have to die trying. JG added that he was going to send me something to look over when he gets back to his dorm. He told me it was for my eyes only, and to not share it with anyone in our circle. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I told him I would keep his promise.




I got JG’s file attachment, and I spent a good hour analyzing it. If what he sent me is true, then this changes everything. Not only for our investigative team, but all of us. In all my years as a virologist, I’ve never seen anything like this before, and it could possibly be one of the most blatant cases of medical malpractice that I’ve ever seen. If this is real, then it would be morally repugnant for me to keep this a secret. I’ll post an update in an hour with my decision. I’m starting to feel sick again, and my back pain is starting to surge again.


Goddammit. I don’t know what to even make of this now. I fired a message to JG, asking him if anyone else in our group knows about this. He replied back quickly; telling me that DZ does, and he plans on telling MN and AM before they board their flight back home. I could tell he knew I was onto something, to which he sent me an angry email back. He insisted that if I told anyone about the attachment, that there was going to be dire consequences for all of us. I demanded to know where he got the information from, to which he told me that he talked to the guard he saw strapped to the gurney in private when the medical team was gone. The guard said that he saw someone open the gate where the two infected people were, and that it wasn’t an accident. The guard was adamant that the attack was on purpose, and that he was sure he wasn’t the intended target–but one of us were.

He went on to say that he found the two surviving candidates from the test, SUBJECT #2 told him about how she became infected with the virus. She claims that she was a child psychologist turned EMT in the wake of the outbreak, and that she often hopped from base to base to help where she could. While stationed in a base near Atlanta, she was approached by a group that claimed to work for the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services about partaking in a clinical study to try a potential vaccine against the virus. When she declined, feeling something off about them, she claims they stowed her into the back of a van, and injected her with what she believes to have been a strain of the virus. She was found abandoned several miles outside Chattanooga, with no recollection of her captures.

Unable to believe the story for himself, she showed him scars she got from the struggle and where she began to develop partial necrosis at the injection site. I thought he was bullshitting with me, until he sent me the photos as proof. My stomach sank, seeing what she went through. He continued by saying that she’s sure this entire outbreak wasn’t a fluke or freak of nature; but something deeper. This whole thing is making my head spin. I’m going to call it quits for the night. I’m starting to feel like someone’s watching me. The current estimated infected population is believed to be 2.8 billion.





I woke up to my pillow and bed sheets being soaked with blood, and I wasn’t sure why. When I went to open my mouth to call for help, my teeth began to fall out-one by one. I don’t think I ever screamed that loud before in my life, and it took two guards to hold me back so I wouldn’t hurt myself. I watched helplessly as a medic bagged my teeth and collected a sample of my blood, walking away as if nothing happened. I don’t think my brain had time to process what was going on, so I instinctively ran my tongue across the inside of my mouth; hoping this was some kind of fucked up dream and that this wasn’t happening. All I could feel were jagged edges where my teeth once were, almost like shards of broken glass.

I snapped, and started wailing on anyone or anything that was close to me. I had enough. Whatever this shit was; a natural occurrence or a some damn test by the government, it was finally starting to really hit me that this was real. I could feel my blood boil as I threw everything I could get my hands on across the room. I smashed my table to pieces, and ripped the shelf from the wall; stripping the bolts in the process. It wasn’t until I was coming down from my rage that I saw the extent of what I had done; not only was my room destroyed, but I also broke my left hand in the process. The weirdest part though was that I wouldn’t have even noticed unless I saw it for myself or had it pointed out to me. I can’t tell if my outburst made me invincible or if I’m no longer able to feel pain.

I’ll let you know when I test my hypothesis again.





I’ve been at work testing my theory about my ability to process pain, or possible lack thereof. I took one of the pins off my jacket, and poked at the back of my hand. Nothing. I tried prodding the tips of my fingers. Nothing. I tested it again on my arm, skewering a small piece of my skin in the process. Still nothing. No pain or anything to speak of, even after I started to bleed again. I wanted to push my now, almost certain hypothesis even further.

I took one of my fountain pens, and rolled up my sleeves. I gripped the pen tight in my hand, and with all my strength, I stabbed myself in the upper arm. I could feel the nib of the pen bend from the force, snapping upon making contact with my humerus when it broke through the skin. I ripped the pen out of my arm, sending a large spurt of blood across the floor. Nothing. I barely felt it. What the fuck. I looked at the now broken, useless pen in my hand; covered in blood and what was left of the ink. I stared at it, fascinated. A new thought was starting to cross my mind.

I knew now that my hypothesis was correct; and that this wasn’t a side effect of my mood swings. This was something entirely different. I finally knew, or at least was quite certain, that I could no longer feel pain. Now, I couldn’t help but to wonder if I would find myself in a place where I can no longer feel anything at all. I’ll update you on that theory when the time comes.





I’ve been pouring over my notes, and trying to come to a conclusion as to what I’m going to do with the information JG gave me. The signs were everywhere that this wasn’t normal, and it was something the public needed to know. However, the question was would we do after that makes things complicated. Do we kill the infected, no matter the stage of their diagnosis? Do we just launch all of our nukes, and hope there’s enough survivors to start over? I don’t know.

I finally saw my face for the first time in what feels like weeks. It was eerie to say the least to see how this was manifesting itself; staring back at me. In an attempt to diagnose myself; the physical characteristics of the virus were nearing its final stages for me. My teeth were starting to come back, but weren’t like they once were; now were also cryptid like in their appearance. The capillaries in my skin on my face and neck were more prominent; a condition which my division dubbed “angel skin”, as it gave the appearance of the skin being ethereal, and almost translucent.

My eyes have succumb to changes as well, becoming pitch black and almost void like. Upon closer examination, I noticed that not only did my scleras change, but my irises did as well; going from brown to black, as if they pigment was eaten away. The texture of the hair on my head hasn’t changed, but it seems like the hair everywhere else, aside from my face, was becoming lighter. I don’t recognize myself anymore. Is this the part where I have a nervous breakdown or get lost in myself?

I’ll update this later when I can. I’m starting to feel unwell again, and my stomach hasn’t stopped growling since I left my room.




My stomach has been in a knot all day, and no matter what I try to alleviate it, it just keeps getting worse. I’ve tried an assortment of anti-nausea medications and tricks, but nothing works. For the past hour, something in the back of my mind had an insatiable craving for something. I couldn’t place my finger on it, but the more I lingered on it, the more I knew what was going on. I-I need to test something.


I just sent a request for something specific to eat, and I’m going to see how this turns out. This is sick. I don’t want to do this. But, I have to. I have to find out if what I’m thinking is true. I’ll make another update within the next hour.


Shit. Goddammit. So, I tried to put my theory to the test. It worked. It actually worked. I didn’t want to believe it would, but it did. I spoke to a guard that was part of the week long experiment, and told them about the craving. She understood what I meant by that, and went to go take care of it. She came back with a bucket…that damn bucket. I choked back on my vomit as she put it on the new table in front of me. The smell of the viscera emanating from the bucket was revolting, and I almost threw up. The way they almost shined under the florescent lighting in a collection of their own fluids brought back painful memories of college, and the sheer weight of the bucket caught me off guard.

I pulled it close to me and knew there was only one thing I could do. The voice in the back of my head grew louder, telling me if I don’t eat, then I’m going to die. If I eat, I’ll be okay and it will go away. I swallowed my pride, and reached into the bucket; sloshing the various guts around as they slid across each other. The feeling of wanting to vomit came back as I felt how slick they were. I picked up a chunk of meat, and tore at it with my teeth. The muscle was tough, but gave way the more I ripped into it. It reminded me of a cut of choice meat you would use for a stew. It had some bite to it, and wasn’t stringy.

The nausea I had moments ago melted away the more I ate, and that’s when I knew I was right. This was it. This was the symptom I feared the most, as it signaled the last state of the changes that my team and I were made aware of. Part of me knew this was wrong, and that this wasn’t the kind of person I was. This was sick. This was fucked up. Yet, I couldn’t stop. For a moment, any ounce of self control I had went out the window along with whatever humanity I held onto. I was becoming the very thing I was afraid of, and that there was no going back. This disease..this damn disease made my grave for me, and now I have to lie in it. I don’t know how to tell my team about this. I don’t even know if NV or KW are alive at this point. I just hope that the rest of them are able to get the fuck out of here while they can; especially if that guard was telling the truth.

This will probably be my last update. I don’t trust myself to be around other people, and I don’t know when or if I’m going to lose myself to this. There’s no telling if I’ll be the same person a month from now, a week from now, or even tomorrow. I just don’t know. That’s why I’m stepping away from the investigation as of writing this.  I’m so sorry, but I have to do this. I have to do what’s in my best interest, and trying to fight this thing isn’t one of those things anymore. As part of my way to say goodbye, I’ll be leaving an attachment to the documents I’ve exchanged with JG. Whether or not you choose to use them is up to you. I don’t care, they won’t be of any use for me anymore.

To whoever may be reading this, it’s over. There’s no going back for us as a society. We’re too far gone, and there’s nothing we can do to stop the virus. If you’re one of the lucky ones, run. Run as fast as you can and avoid the infected while you can. It’s up to you to decide whether or not we’re a species worth fighting for. The power is in your hands now. God, forgive us all.

“This is the end, my only friend, the end
It hurts to set you free
But you’ll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die
This is the end …”

Goodnight for the last time,

Dr. Xander J. Fitzgerald

Ten Things You Need To Know About Chronic Fatigue

1. It has many names.

Also called ME, PVFS, SEID and a number of other terrifying acronyms, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome is a medical condition whose characteristic symptom is long-term fatigue. This fatigue is a form of constant exhaustion which is not helped by sleep, and which gets significantly worse after exertion. And if you think that sounds like no big deal, it turns out that it really is…

2. Fatigue is a lot more than being tired.

If asked to describe the feeling of fatigue, I’ll say that it’s like having the flu: all you want to do is go to bed and not think about anything. My limbs feel like lead weights and a part of me is always waiting for my next nap. But unlike the flu, chronic fatigue never goes away - you can’t put your life on hold until you recover, you just have to power through it. Fatigue can make every day feel like a marathon.

3. Symptoms may vary.

Although fatigue is the distinguishing symptom for the condition, it’s far from the only one. Sufferers might experience pains in their muscles and joints, headaches, sore throats, memory problems, insomnia, vertigo, irritable bowel, difficulty concentrating and more. Every case is different: few suffer every possible symptom, and their severity can vary hugely too, leaving some sufferers bed-bound while others lead relatively active lives.

4. Exertion isn’t just physical.

All the symptoms of the condition become worse after exertion, making it important to take things slow and steady. But hard work isn’t only in the body - periods of focussing hard on a problem or doing intense mental arithmetic can also bring on a bout of increased symptoms. And those symptoms are mental too - when you’re struggling with mind fog and memory problems, it can be impossible to follow anything more complex than the plot of a Disney movie.

5. Small effort = huge consequences.

Although walking to the shops may seem like a small task to you, to me it would be disastrous. After exertion, every symptom gets worse - every muscle aches, concentration becomes impossible, and my fatigue makes it difficult to move. For me, the effects of a single bout of over-exertion can take up to three days to fully recover from, and that time extends exponentially if I over-exert again before I’m completely recovered.

6. Depression is closely related.

If you’ve ever been to a therapist, you’ve probably been asked if you have trouble sleeping or feel tired most of the time, because these are common symptoms of mood disorders. As you can imagine, when your answers are always ‘yes’, it can be difficult to have a positive outlook on life. Some doctors think depression might actually be a symptom of the disease, but even if it’s not, it’s definitely a frequent visitor alongside it.

7. There is no treatment.

There are no pills you can take or exercises you can do to cure chronic fatigue. Although it sometimes vanishes on its own, the only option while you have it is to manage your symptoms, and try to increase your activity levels so you can manage more without over-exerting. There are a number of methods to do this, but most focus on the need for consistency and gradual change; there are no easy solutions.

8. No-one knows the cause.

In some ways, chronic fatigue is a mystery illness: no-one is certain of the root cause of the syndrome. Although symptoms are often triggered by a virus, there is no definite diagnostic test - instead, a diagnosis is given if symptoms persist after every other possible diagnosis has been ruled out. In fact, research into the condition is woefully underfunded, and as a result very little information about chronic fatigue has been experimentally tested.

9. It can happen to anyone.

Before I developed chronic fatigue, I was a healthy and active university student with no family history of the condition - I had never even heard of it. The symptoms developed very suddenly - only a couple of weeks after I first felt unwell, I was struggling with tasks that had once been well within my abilities. My whole life was turned upside down within only a couple of months. Chronic fatigue can happen to anyone, at any time, and it’s no-one’s fault when it does.

10. It’s a disability.

Although this may sound obvious given everything I’ve just told you, chronic fatigue syndrome is a chronic illness and is legally and ethically entitled to the same reasonable accommodations as any other disability. The reason this might not be so obvious is that chronic fatigue is often invisible - while some sufferers might use wheelchairs or other mobility devices, many do not look ill while out and about.

When it comes to invisible illness, it’s vital to remember that you never know who might be disabled - whether parked in a handicapped bay, or choosing the lift over the stairs, never assume you know the level of help a stranger needs to live their day-to-day life.

Though they are very weak to water types in battle, the torchic line love hot springs. This is due to the healing effects they have have on sore joints and muscles (which can be very debilitating to combusken and blaziken, especially in the legs) Though it’s very important to remember that torchic are very little and can’t swim so they shouldn’t go into a hot spring without their trainer to hold onto them and make sure they don’t sink!

Other fire types can be coaxed, like growlithe (who actually don’t need that much coaxing and will dive in once they see bubbles) and flareon are known to enjoy them. But pokemon with exposed flames such as infernape and charizard will avoid submerging themselves in water like the plague.

Things Genji and Zenyatta do when romancing each other

SFW things/Little-or-no sex headcanon

  • Holding hands
  • Leaning in or around or next to each other – sitting with their backs pressed together, leaning one’s head on the other’s shoulder or lap, lying down with one’s head in the other’s lap, etc.
  • They touch foreheads. The nine dots on Zenyatta’s forehead emit electromagnetic pulses at different frequencies and patterns depending on how he feels, and Genji’s sensors pick up on this, so it’s a very intimate experience.
  • Recharging together, or helping each other to recharge. If they aren’t in sleep mode while they research, they might play solitaire for the irony of it.
  • Genji likes to help Zenyatta refill his fuel and/or coolant reserves (fuel presuming he isn’t battery powered). This includes both serving his replenishments to him as he might have done in the monastery, or physically refilling his supplies for him.
  • Assuming Genji’s digestive system is not erased but greatly weakened, Zenyatta makes soft mushy foods or fluid foods that Genji is permitted to eat. He handfeeds him if he is ill or otherwise incapacitated or having a bad day.
  • Gardening. They have miniature gardens all over the base. Flowers go on windowsills and tables. Leafy plants in huge pots so they can show off their brilliant foliage, at the corners of various rooms. Ferns in darker rooms and crawlers over portions of the walls, over handrails and balustrades and fences. Succulents and cacti tucked wherever it’s possible. Bonsai on every bedside table, every shelf with empty place. Zenyatta had a terrarium phase. Their pet goldfish died so they started an aquatic garden in its tank.
  • Massaging over their sensor nodes, over thinner regions of plating, over the augmented muscle and cording. Sometimes Genyatta’s cabling gets disarrayed and Genji will help him arrange it back into order. Sometimes the joints between Genji’s augmented muscle will feel sore and Genyatta will massage those areas for him. Thin metal fingers are perfect for this.
  • Pulse massages/vibrating massages for the really bad days
  • Zenyatta weaves new scarves for Genji. He insists on a few in embroidered silk. Genji should take a page from his brother’s book, he says. It’ll look pretty on him, he says.
  • They really help each other with their frame upkeep, since they are the ones who understand it best. Cleaning, buffing, shining, making small adjustments where needed, fixing any issues with circuitry, repainting if it’s necessary – all of it that doesn’t require actual medical/engineering assistance.
  • One of their favourite poses is where they have a hand to the other’s chest, or a head on the other’s chest. For Genji, the former reminds him of his human heart and the latter reminds him of the genuine and intimate love and trust he shares with his Master. For Zenyatta, the former reinforces the belief that Omnics possess souls as well, and the latter allows him to comfort and protect and cherish Genji the way he wants to.
  • Meditating together
  • Taking long early morning or late afternoon walks with each other
  • Playing go or chess or other games of the like. They get very competitive and then make fun of each other for making it a competition. Sometimes they’ll devise new rules to play with to make the games more challenging, or to make it a pointless mess of a diversion because they both have a twisted sense of humour. If they’re playing board games with other characters, which they love to, they team up and do their utmost to ensure no one else can win, without actually attempting to win themselves, the little fuckers.
  • They light firecrackers together.
  • Genji braids new belts for Zenyatta, or re-braids his old ones if they fray.
  • Zenyatta gets a kick out of doing laundry and Genji gets a kick out of seeing him do it.
  • Genji really likes to play with Zenyatta’s orbs. It’s an affectionate gesture most of the time, but sometimes he’ll fiddle one (like a stress ball) if he’s anxious or restless and it’ll calm him down. Sometimes he’ll absently toy with one while he thinks about something, and sometimes he’ll study them with real wonder and amazement because his Master’s strength and abilities are a total mystery to him. Zenyatta indulges him but the answer as to whether he will juggle is always no. Genji tried once and Zenyatta ruined it for him by sneakily retracting the orbs one at a time to trip him up. (This idea is more or less taken from schmogg’s lovely sfm art.)
  • This is still a working theory, but depending on the extent of Genji’s cyborgification, he may be able to access, upload to and download from open networks/other systems? If that is the case, the most intimate act I can imagine Genji and Zenyatta doing is joining or merging their consciousnesses. It’s tiring and challenging for both of them, but it’s also one of those really powerful experiences they can claim for themselves that others cannot, and that means something to Genji.

NSFW things/Yes sex headcanon

  • They like to play with the sensitive spots in each other’s frames – Zenyatta’s orbs and dots, Genji’s scarf and antennae and the gaps between his armour
  • Their sex involves a lot of fingering and toys, besides primary sexual paraphernalia
  • Electric play
  • Circuit play
  • Denting as an indication of rough sex
  • Temperature play – considering the composition of their bodies there are some interesting they can do.
  • Playing with their power dynamic, which, yes is possible in any sort of relationship, but could be unique considering their history together.
Before the Fall - Part 5

Originally posted by people-are-miserable

Part 4

Summary: Before he was known as the Joker, he was Jack. Just a normal man, who fell in love with his bosses daughter. After being caught, he’s thrown onto the path of madness and has no choice but to become the clown prince of crime.

A/N: So this chapter is a bit different. Starts out in a memory, then goes into a dream. It’s a bit surreal, hope it doesn’t feel out of place too much. Just a bit of foreshadowing for the next few chapters xD

Pairings: Normal!Joker x Reader, Joker x Reader (later on)

Warnings: Violence

Keep reading

jimin; thank you

❝just a lil’ something because Bells said something about this during our skype call and then i stumbled on this post so it’s just–idk what this is but i had to write it out.
whispers:: @the-storyweaver
►1259 words // scenario, self-acceptance
© (photo credit)

Keep reading